You Are My Snow
by yolohontas
Summary: Harry Potter never in a million years would have believed that he'd be placed in Slytherin house, which, to his limited knowledge, was the Hogwarts House that had produced the darkest wizards of all time. However, he had no idea that he would be growing up with a pale stranger who he would grow to love. Drarry fluff. T just to be sure, mainly because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1: Eye of the Storm

**Chapter 1**

_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin..._

But taking no notice of Harry's desperate, rhythmatic thoughts, the rip at the brim of the Hogwarts Sorting hat declared triumphantly,

"SLYTHERIN!"

There was around a second when the air surrounding the Sorting Hat's words were thick with silence, when the students had barely enough time to gasp, when every single eye in the Great Hall was upon the famous Harry Potter, who had just been sorted into Slytherin House.

Though he had always been a wizard, it was only in the past month that he had been taught of magical culture, of light and dark, of Gryffindor and Slytherin, of red and green. He was new to it all, and all he knew about Slytherin house was what had been told to him by the Gryffindors, who assured him that despite their appearances, they were the 'good guys'. He had been told that it had produced more dark wizards than any other. He had been told that they were extremely predjudiced against Muggle Born wizards. And he had been told that the great but terrible Lord Voldemort himself had been one.

No matter how many times the wizards would bring up Harry Potter's mysterious past, all he wanted, more than anything else in the _world, _was to be released from it.

And as he walked far across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table, he felt like he was in the eye of the storm.

He was aware of Ron Weasley's crestfallen face.

He was aware of Fred and George whispering darkly to each other behind their hands at the Gryffindor table.

He was very much aware of the mutterings of his fellow classmates that seemed to trail him like dust from his new, forged path.

He was aware but he himself was numb.

Without realizing it fully, he had reached his new 'house' table. Green and silver tracked his sight everywhere he tried to look, but it was the boy next to him who was the most intriguing about this dreary color combination. Harry couldn't help noticing how well the blonde hair worked with the green and silver of his new tie. He glanced sideways at the pale boy… and drew his eyes away as he realized that the boy was looking straight back.

_Right. _Everyone did that now. He had simply forgotten.

As the shock of the famous Harry Potter being sorted into Slytherin wore away, the young boys conversations faded into awkward 'how was your summer's punctuated by the clatter of forks and knives. But Harry could feel the heat of those cold gray eyes still upon him.

Harry smiled slightly at the platinum haired stranger. This boy was certainly not making the situation less awkward.

The boy responded to the brief smile. His words dripped confidence and Harry wondered how.

"So you're the famous Harry Potter. In my house."

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on his untouched treacle. He didn't know where this conversation was going, but he didn't like the way the boy said 'my house'.

"You certainly don't look very happy with the hat's choice." In the moment, he felt even more awkward at this seemingly accusational tone. Later he would learn that that was just the way the boy spoke.

Harry felt it would be imprudent to say that he had really been hoping for, well… anything except this house. Instead he smiled passably. "Mmm."

He wasn't going to lie either.

The blonde didn't seem to pay any attention to Harry's discomfort. "Well, I'm Draco Malfoy. Welcome to Slytherin House."

Harry noted that even though this Draco Malfoy was the same age as himself, he spoke as if he had known Slytherin House would be his Hogwarts house since he was born. With a pang, Harry realized that he had never had the comfort.

He yearned for it.

But only for a second. It passed, leaving him slightly confused. This new wizard thing was all very new to him.

_It's going to be a long seven years, _he thought with an inward sigh.

As if Malfoy knew what he was thinking, he suddenly smiled and held out a hand. "You'll learn sooner or later that some wizards are better than others. You don't want to be making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you out there."

The boy certainly seemed knowledgeable. Harry took it.


	2. Chapter 2: Both Ways

**Chapter 2**

Slytherin House wasn't really as bad as everyone made it out to be.

Sure, it was pretty much every day that Harry had to sidestep snarky, prejudiced comments, and even more frequently that his ears were pricked to the word 'mudblood'. But with his new friend Draco Malfoy by his side, the strange atmosphere surrounding his wizarding education suddenly didn't seem so confusing. Though it was often Malfoy sneering about the irritating but harmless seeming 'mudblood' in their Potions class and flicking owl droppings and bits of parchment at Ron Weasley (who Malfoy had explained to Harry came from the biggest family of blood traitors wizard-kind had probably ever seen), Harry rarely said anything about these matters because he enjoyed having Malfoy as a friend so much. And as he often thought about his new companion, the good in him was clear- and it outweighed the bad.

It was only on his second week of classes that he learned the story of his new and only friend. He was still at the young age of 11, however, and had yet to learn that stories are always worthier of listening to when told by the owner themselves.

He was walking across the manicured grounds of Hogwarts, accompanied by Ron Weasley (whom he rather liked despite Malfoy's sarcastic and frequent judgements). And it was then that he learned that the judgement went both ways.

"So I see you're hanging around Draco Malfoy a lot," Ron said with an air of faking casualness.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ron cut him off before the words got a chance to prove themselves.

"You want to be careful. Draco Malfoy… that's Lucius Malfoy's son. I suppose you don't know much about Mr Malfoy yet… Anyways. In the times of You-Know-Who" he nodded at Harry's scar- "He and Lucius Malfoy were… I don't think you can call them friends, as You-Know-Who never really seemed to care for anyone. But Lucius was right in his inner circle. The Muggle-Borns and the blood traitors disgusted him. He despised him so much, in fact, that he was willing to place himself- and his whole family- in a position of constant danger at the hands of his master. Mr. Malfoy did terrible things at the snap of You-Know-Who's fingers. He made pretty good gold off of it, too. That is until you came along. The downfall of You-Know-Who was the downfall of all of his servants. Some were relieved that the danger was gone from their lives- as you might have noticed, Slytherins aren't well known for their bravery, and they were pretty much all Slytherins. Some of them even felt guilt for what they had done. But the Malfoys? I'll eat Scabbers if I ever found out that the destruction of You-Know-Who had their mindset changed."

Harry met this lengthy speech with silence for a second, mulling it over in his mind. He was slightly confused- he did not see where Draco Malfoy came into the picture at any point in the story.

Finally he responded with "Have you ever met my relatives?"

"No. But I've heard a lot about them. I've heard that they're- er- not the nicest." Ron looked curious and suspicious, as if he was wondering where Harry was going with this.

"That's an understatement," said Harry, smiling wryly. "My relatives are probably the worst people I know."

Ron remained silent, watching Harry with his brows knitted.

"But what about me?"  
>"I dunno, what about you?" Ron answered automatically, though Harry knew that Ron knew full well what Harry was talking about.<p>

"I mean, I turned out okay, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that's different, right? You hate those Muggles."

Harry looked sideways at Ron. At first he felt a slight irritation, but it was covered with a smile without Harry knowing it.

"I have Charms.' He adjusted the straps of his backpack uncomfortably and made to walk away.

Ron looked extremely confused… and Harry realized that maybe a little understanding might benefit this conversation. He turned around.

"You might want to remember that you can love someone and not necessarily agree with them."

And still grinning, he walked into the tiny Charms classroom, where the blonde boy was standing in the doorway waiting.


	3. Chapter 3: Mudblood

**Chapter 3**

"This might be a little easier to deal with if we just had some warmth," Draco grumbled to a distracted Harry as he scratched out another answer to an OWL prep sheet.

Harry grinned and looked out the window. The murky, greenish water stared thickly back at him. He'd been told by his Gryffindor friends that there was nothing more comforting after a long night of homework than looking out the window from an overstuffed armchair and watching the snowfall for a while. While Slytherin House had its perks (for one, they were the only house where you could glimpse mermaids and the giant squid from the comfort and safety of your common room), Harry was usually informed and blatantly aware of the things it lacked. He shivered.

"I just don't understand why we need to freak out about this yet… OWLs aren't for ages!" The furious muttering continued. Draco stabbed his potions essay with his quill. A rip appeared in the parchment. Ink blotted the mahogany table.

"Great. Bloody brilliant." Draco's face was red and he looked like he was about to flip the table.

"Hey, calm down," Harry said quietly. He knew that speaking to Draco when he was in this state was likely to get him snapped at (it had happened 3 times that day) but all the grumbling was rather annoying to him too.

"Do you know how _long _it took me to write this?"

_It was long for me too. You wouldn't stop muttering to yourself for three straight hours. _"I know. And you don't have to spend any more time on it, either. Snape would probably accept that from you if you'd dumped the ink bottle on it."

Harry tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, knowing full well that Snape would never accept a ripped essay from him.

Draco glared at him, then pulled out his wand and cleaned the ink off of the table.

"You know," Harry said, flashing another grin, "It could be worse."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? How so."

Harry hesitated. He hadn't really prepared himself with anything to say.

"Right. Well, I'm gonna start on McGonagall's essay."

"No, wait! You could… you could be wearing Weasley's sweater."

That made Draco smile, but Harry's insides squirmed with guilt.

"Or I could be taking a million subjects like that Granger Mudblood."

"Have you ever thought about… not using that word?" Harry was already feeling pretty bad about the comment about Ron and had not intended to start this kind of conversation.

"Which one?" Draco said, and it was incredibly apparent to Harry in that moment that to Draco, Mudblood was a word like any other.

"Come on, Draco."

"You've heard me say it for five years. I don't see what the big deal is."

Harry shook his head, amazed. "You don't get 'used' to a word like that."

Draco merely shrugged his response. He picked up _1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi, _ dog-eared his place, and snapped it shut. "I think I'll go study in the dormitory."

"Draco, wait-"

But the footsteps on the stone steps were petering out and Harry had found himself in an empty common room.


	4. Chapter 4: Catching Snow

Chapter 4

Draco was probably the most open person Harry had ever met; even when he wasn't talking, Harry found that he could tell exactly what was going on with his best friend judging only by the position of his face. But how was he supposed to sense what was going on with Draco when the only thing he would permit Harry to see was the back of his head?

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared above Draco's head at the window. It was still snowing. Ron was right- as he stared out the window, the snow seemed to warm his stomach a bit. It was almost the same effect as drinking butterbeer, but somehow...slower. As he looked away from the window and out of the corner of his eye at the bad-postured form of his best friend, he was surprised that instead of the warmth fading from his stomach, it seemed to be multiplying. He had a sudden urge to give Draco a hug, but felt like that'd be awkward beyond words. So he put his chin in his hands, drew his eyes away from Draco Malfoy, and turned his ears with great difficulty to Professor Binns' monotonous drone at the front of the classroom.

Charms was usually the perfect time for conversation, as they were usually partnered up and the greenhouse had the perfect atmosphere of seclusion but still liveliness. But as he tried to catch Malfoy and pull up a seat next to him, he found the blonde already seated at a full table with Nott, Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson. As he dropped his bag on an empty table at the back of the room and sat down rather huffily, he saw Draco wave in mock apology, giving him the sarcastic smile he had been treated to only a few times before.

Draco Malfoy was proving harder to catch than a snowflake.

As the bell rang, Harry Potter was determined not to let that stupid snowflake melt between his fingers again. He stood in a would-be casual way by the door and, as Draco tried to run off with Nott for lunch, he caught his arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco hissed, trying to wrench his skinny arm away.

"I want to talk to you."

"And I'm going to miss lunch. I'm bloody starving, just let me go eat, okay?"

"No." Harry didn't let go of Draco's arm, though his friends were probably already in the great hall by now. "Let's go up to the dormitory. I've got some butterbeers and chocolates from Hogsmeade."

"Chocolate for lunch? I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I…"


	5. Chapter 5: Green and Silver

**Chapter 5**

The four-poster made a sad sounding squeak of the springs as Harry sat down upon the side. He motioned for Draco to side beside him and Draco did so reluctantly, causing the springs even more trauma.

"Look, why are you _so _mad at me about this? I thought I was nice. And I really meant what I said." Harry's green eyes bore into Draco's grey ones and Draco found himself looking at Harry's maroon comforter.

"But you don't understand," Draco muttered.

"What?"

"That's why I haven't been talking to you. Because I don't know how to explain it. I'm not angry, Harry. Really. It's just hard."

Harry was a bit confused. His eyebrows knit. "How so?"

Draco sighed. "It's just… well, none of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. My parents don't even know that I'm in contact with you, and if they did, I can assure you that they are not the type to invite you over for dinner. And, um, Snape doesn't think you're a good influence-"

"Well if _Snape _thinks so-"

"No, stop!" Draco put his hand on Harry's and the fist the brunette had balled up was slowly flattened. "I'm not saying I agree with all those people. You are my best friend and we will always be that way. I promise. But you have to understand that these people who… disapprove, I spend _all my time _with them when I'm not with you. And with you here questioning how I was brought up, well… it's hard. Hard for me to change. I freaked out, and I'm sorry, Harry."

Their eyes met again, and for the second time since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, he noticed how well the green went with the silver, the vivid with the pale. Their eyes were their house and their house was their home.

He shook himself out of it. What the hell was wrong with him?

Still. Harry had no idea how to answer his friend.

"Oh," he said. "I had no idea.

But I'm not going to apologize either. That word is foul, Draco. And it kind of stabs me every time you say it."

Draco took a deep breath, intertwined his hand with Harry's, and locked eyes for a startlingly strong second.

Snake and snow.

Green and silver.

Home.

"I'll try, Harry, I really will. I'll try until I get it."


	6. Chapter 6: Lucky

**Chapter 6**

Ron Weasley was waiting for Harry on the grounds as he returned from Quidditch practice that afternoon, picking blades of grass with a curiously apprehensive look trapped behind his freckled grin. Harry greeted him with an unusually strained hug and a smile, and sat down in the grass next to him.

"What's up, mate? It seems like forever since I've seen you…" Ron's smile faded with a sort of bitterness.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Harry tried for another grin, but it failed him. His nerves seemed to be in between frozen and rushing.

Harry twiddled his thumbs. He bit his nails. He picked another blade of grass neatly from the ground. Anything to distract him from what he was about to say.

"Hello?" Ron knocked on Harry's skull, hard. "Anyone home?"

"Okay, okay, sorry. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"Spill it," said Ron without a second thought. "I'm right here."  
>"Um…" Harry started, but his mouth was dryer than the twigs on his Firebolt. He cleared his throat. "It's no big deal, I guess. It's just that… I think I might not really like… girls."<p>

"Are you saying you're gay?" Ron said, his eyes on Harry. Harry did not return his gaze.

"Lower your voice. And yeah. Maybe. I don't know. It's all very confusing, okay?"

"Hey, calm down and stop being so defensive. I really don't care one way or another, and I'm still your best friend. But like, what made you realize?" Ron's voice was soft, but there was still no mistaking the edge of curiosity it still carried with it.

Harry's first retort would have been, _what made you realize you were straight, _but he had been prepared for this question and knew that there really _was _something- or someone- who had helped him figure it out. Someone who had no idea. Someone who might not have been as supportive as Ron, if Harry chose to tell him.

He just smiled and said, "If I tell you, you're not going to like the answer."

"What? That is _so _not fair!" Ron laughed.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry." Ron dropped his gaze as the smile faded off of his lips again. "I know this is hard. But _still, _I'm curious!"

_As you _always _are. _But Harry just sighed and said, "Are you sure?"

"Of course," replied Ron, though Harry couldn't help notice a waver in his usually steady voice.

Harry took a deep breath and mustered up more courage than he thought he would be needing. In a voice that he tried not to make sound so resigned, he answered his best friend. "Okay, please don't freak out on me. I know you guys aren't the best of friends, but, um.. it's Draco… I think I'm starting to like him." Harry refrained from adding, "but I don't know" to the end of his sentence. The truth was, he did know. He waited for Ron's shocked reply with bated breath.

Ron didn't reply.

"Please say something…" It was taking all Harry had in him not to cringe at his own words. But another small, defiant thought said, _why should he? _

"Um…" Ron looked like he was choosing his words rather carefully. "Are you sure it's not just that he's attractive or something?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, Ron. I told you you wouldn't want to know."

There was another awkward silence, this one seeming to stretch on for hours. Finally Ron spoke again.

"Why _him, _though? Why Malfoy? I'm sorry you can't see it Harry, but he's kind of a rotten person. I'm just worried, I guess. I don't want him to hurt you."

Harry couldn't explain where all the anger was coming from. He just knew that Ron Weasley, one of his best and only friends in the whole school, was _worried _about him for such a _stupid _reason. He had never snapped at Ron, but he found himself opening his mouth without a second thought of the matter.

"Ron, I can't choose these things any more than you or Draco for that matter can choose who influences you. You're lucky, Ron. You're lucky that when you have a crush, you don't have to keep it secret in fear of your friends' lack of support. You're lucky that you have a family who loves everyone and who taught you to be a kind person. You're lucky that you don't have to battle these horrible people like Draco and I do, these people that we are around _all the freaking time, _these people that we _love. _You're lucky that love, for you, is a completely straight line. Maybe Draco and I could have a bit more sympathy from you, _mate. _Unless you think we don't deserve it."

Ron opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. Finally, he settled on a few choice words, slightly muffled by the sound of him stuffing his homework into his schoolbag.

"Piss off, _mate._"

He stalked off, leaving Harry alone with a fistful of grass in his hands and the white-hot rage for his old friend still bouncing off all corners of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7: Flickering

It was little less than panic that Harry felt in his stomach as the blonde head appeared through the doors of the great hall that evening. For though it may have been only the remaining anxiety left over from his and Ron's fall out, Draco's hair was looking disheveled rather than sleek and Harry rather thought he had something on his mind.

"Move over a bit, will you?" Draco snapped, hovering behind Harry as he eyed the desserts.

"I will if you ask politely." Harry was well aware of what he was doing. Malfoy usually responded differently to an obnoxious but necessary call out of his rude actions depending on the situation. Harry waited, his heartbeat faster and more rhythmic than Draco's heavy breathing.

The grey eyes softened, and Harry felt his heart relax. "Later," mumbled the blonde, leaning over to Harry and forcing a smile onto his face that looked like it had been paper mached. He then raised his voice.

"Now will you _please _move your ass, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes and slid a few inches down the bench, but his heart was pumping faster than it had even been before. He didn't like anything about the way his best friend was acting, from the little things like the slumping posture of his back, to the troubling and closed-off avoidance of Draco's stormy grey eyes to his own green ones.

"Ron's being a nightmare," said Harry, only thinking of starting a normal conversation.

"Oh yeah? How so?"

Again, Harry had not fought this far ahead, as he rarely did. "Er- he's just being weird and moody, I guess. No clue why." He didn't like the way the lie rolled so easily off of his tongue, and the bitter flavor of the air it occupied suffocated him for a second.

"Want me to bring it up with him?" Draco's eyes concentrated for a split second on Harry's, who until then had no idea just how cold grey eyes could feel so warm near him. Harry's heart gave a jolt.

"No, no, no. Please don't. It would only start drama. Seriously. You guys can't have a conversation without taking a swing at eachother. Trust me. _Not _a good idea."

"Wow, okay, if it's _that _important to you, I'll stay out of your and Weasley's drama. Can't say I'm not relieved." Draco offered Harry another one of those flickering smiles that worried him so.

In that moment, Harry took one last look at his treacle tart and decided to be a friend.

"Okay, what is the deal with you? You're being really shifty. It's abnormal," he told Draco out of the corner of his mouth.

"What, do you suggest we just shout about my stupid issues in the middle of the great hall?" Draco snapped.

It really was something else to be best friends with probably the most angsty teenager in the wizarding world, especially one who expressed said angst in snaps and sneers.

To tell the truth, it was a bit tiring most times.

"No," replied Harry finally, steeling his emotions. "Why don't we get out of here?"

And heart racing, eyes wide, Harry took his friend's hand and led him out of the crowded hall.


	8. Chapter 8: Hidden Strength

**Chapter 8**

"Spill it."  
>"I'm hungry."<p>

"You're always hungry. I don't care. What's going on, mate?" Harry gave Draco a look halfway between quizzical and concerned.

"It's nothing, Harry, okay? Can I just eat?" Malfoy mumbled, eyeing the mahogany table they were seated around.

Harry rolled his eyes, a bit exasperated to tell the truth. "Why do you have to do this?" he asked quietly.

"Do what?"

The worst bit was that Draco seemed genuinely curious.

"Why do you have to hide, Draco? What are you afraid of? I'm not going to judge you, you know that."

"Maybe because I don't broadcast my issues to the entire world like you, thinking they're _not _going to," Draco said, temper rising.

Harry was about to go through the motions of calming his best friend, a ritual that he had been puzzling together since first year, but he was caught off guard by Draco's accusation. "You really think I'm that open?" He asked.

Draco shrugged, and then hesitated. Finally, he said, "You were with Ron."

Harry's stomach seemed to drop to his feet. Both were numb. His face was red. Burning. He had no idea how to respond.

"...how much did you hear?"

"What, you want me to repeat it to you?"

Harry nodded, fearing the worst.

"Um, okay… I heard you tell Ron that you were- that you were-"

_Shit. _Harry decided on the spot to get it over with. "Yeah, that I'm not straight." He hesitated, pausing to feel the waters, to look into Draco's eyes. Unfortunately, they were avoiding his yet again.

"Is that a _problem?" _It was Harry's turn to sneer, but only to hide the fact that he was, for the time being, safe. Ish. Draco hadn't heard the part about Draco himself, and at least that was something.

Of course, everything depended on how he took the first part.

Harry looked at Draco again, waiting expectantly. His leg was shaking so much that he thought it would fall off.

"Well," Draco started, "I guess this sort of thing has never really happened to anyone I know."

He paused shortly, and then continued as if he were coughing out the words. "And- and my parents haven't really taught me any respect towards, you know, that sort of thing…"

Harry had figured.

"But then again…" Draco sounded like he was thinking out loud. "Then again. My parents really haven't taught me any tolerance towards lots of people. Like… Muggle-borns. And blood traitors. And, um, pretty much anyone who isn't like me. I've always just gone along with it. But, Harry, I don't suppose this is different. And you've taught me so, so much, about being more tolerant and respectful towards those unlike yourself. So, basically, what I'm trying to say is that I'd be a fool to choose my parents' ignorant teachings instead of letting you keep teaching me the right way to be.

"But I'm not a strong person, Harry. I'm not going to lie, it's going to be hard to let go of my parents' lessons at first. I _promise, _though, I'll do it. I'll try as _hard as I can. _This is not going to stop us from being friends. It'll be like nothing has changed, negatively at least."

Draco held Harry's gaze for a split second.

Harry smiled, the largest smile he'd allowed himself after the fall out with him and Ron. _This _is how a friend should be reacting to this sort of news, he thought with a twinge of bitterness.

He stopped himself. Whatever was between him and Ron at the moment was _not _going to ruin this for them both.

"Draco," he said finally, "I disagree. With the part about you not being strong. I don't understand how you could still be friends with me, what with where you come and all, if you weren't strong.

"Personally, I think you're one of the strongest people I know."


End file.
